


It's The Junk You Cherish

by orphan_account



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, BAMF Junkrat, BAMF Roadhog, Because why the fuck not?, Canon-Typical Violence, Explicit Sexual Content, Human Experimentation, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Past Rape/Non-con, Strangers to Lovers, from strangers to something awesome!
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-16
Updated: 2016-12-21
Packaged: 2018-09-08 23:06:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,638
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8866963
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: "Piss ant." The first words Roadhog had spoken since being brought in by these meddling jackasses...or a fic were big ass corporations come and take over the outback and after using the junker's for menial labor they simply don't need them anymore. Well... most of them.





	1. White Coats

**Author's Note:**

  * For [IWalkInAir](https://archiveofourown.org/users/IWalkInAir/gifts).



> I love the pairing so I should write them badasses a fucking story.
> 
> Not beta read cuz I don't care if you want to point out typos.. go right ahead... point them out to me. I dare you.

He'd been found and darted. Again.

Once more he'd woken in that place, opening his eyes to find himself standing upright and in the presence of another. Only this time it was a man who stood before him wearing a long white lab coat typical of his kind and not the woman Roadhog had grown accustomed to. He did, however, notice that the man stared at him with that same haughty, snide expression she always graced him with.

He distinctly remembered killing her for it.

"It would seem," the man started, eyeing him up and down, "that your reputation as the 'one man apocalypse' doesn't nearly match up to your reputation as a gluttonous pig."

Alpha. This guy was definitely an alpha; no scent needed to figure that one out. Of course, Roadhog had yet to meet one of these assholes that wasn't an alpha prick. Roadhog snorted, unimpressed with this white coat.

"Also a man of large words I see." The man continued, looking pleased with himself.

Roadhog started forward. No one would miss this little shit.

The white coat's eyes bugged, and for a moment he seemed to realize the position he was in. Roadhog: big. Stupid man: not so big.

"Wait, wait!"

Hastily, the man reached into a deep coat pocket and brought out a small box, fumbling for a second before pressing some of the buttons in the middle. Immediately, armed guards materialized on either side of the huge junker and he stopped to consider them. The guards wore extensively padded armor (most likely bullet proof), carried heavy, short barreled guns (most likely phasers of some kind), and both were scowling at him.

"Listen," White coat said, confident now that he had friends, "this doesn't have to get messy junker. Simply do as instructed and we will be done with this in short order."

He gestured to the seemingly endless length of the hallway before them. "After you, if you don't mind."

His thin lipped smile slipped when Roadhog broadened his stance and folded his bulky arms, not budging.

White coat groaned, "You can't be serious! Obviously, he needs a push in the right direction. Gentlemen, help him out a bit please."

One guard thrust his weapon hard into Roadhog's side, the other cleared his throat and growled at the massive junker as if he could spur him to move through intimidation alone.

Little prick alphas. Honestly, where did these jerk offs come from? Rolling his eyes behind his mask, Roahog moved and both guards crumpled to the squeaky clean floor, moaning over their shattered forearms. He turned to white coat.

"Okay, okay, okay," the man said quickly, backing away just a bit, "I can assure you that you weren't aprehended on any charges Mr. Roadhog. No one's in trouble here, we just have another job for you."

Roadhog stopped and studied white coat.  As he stared the man became fidgety, running his hands down the fabric of his coat repeatedly as if it wasn't already straight and white enough. The lanky alpha was easily heads shorter than Roadhog, his complexion twice as pale as the junker was tan, and the unmistakable scent of fear bled through multiple layers of nervous persperation. He posed about as much a threat as a toothless dog.

"Piss ant." The first words Roadhog had spoken since being brought in by these meddling jackasses.

The man glared weakly, his perfect posture slumping somewhat, "Really now, the sooner you cooperate the sooner you can leave."

Roadhog brought a black nailed hand up to scratch at his masked chin, allowing for a few more tense seconds before shrugging.

Might as well.

He stepped over the guards and followed white coat down the brightly lit hallway. It wasn't long before piss ant, that's what Hog decided to nickname white coat, opened a door and ushered him into a small white room where he took a seat at a small white table. The small white chair creaked and groaned pitifully under his weight and Hog had half a mind to just stand. He sighed.

If this job was anything like the last dozen then it was just the same repugnant thing they'd "hired" him to do since that first tranq peirced his neck all of five years ago. It meant getting his hands dirty in more ways than one, but at least it was routine. At least it was something he could hande, no sweat. 

Piss ant notified him that he would be joined for a simple briefing shortly then left, leaving Roadhog alone in the disconcertingly sterile crack box.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I keep writing Hog crushing the heads of the people talking shit to him and then for plots sake deleting the gory death and rewriting the jerk alive. *sigh* he should just be able to crush who he wants.

It was the outback, no one wanted it. To claim it was to invite one's self to a tea party in which the horderves had a habit of melting your insides, and if the toxic crumpets didn't kill you fast enough the other guests would be more than happy to help you right along. It was the home of the poor fucks who'd been trapped there from the start of the omnic wars, and the perfect dump for the rest of the country's reject scum. In its crude and ransacked way it was simply.. the outback.

And then, seemingly overnight, it wasn't.

Suddenly all that unwanted, uncontested land wasn't so pestilential that it couldn't be used and everything left standing from the wars- what little the junker's had -was torn apart. 

First the fancy foreigners had come with their promises and hired any and all of the mangy desperates who would take their food and money to clear away the rubble and rough of the terrain. Next came the whitecoats, along with them the machines, and then from there.. well, to put it lightly...

The new guests had taken over the party.

Only the suspicious few who had enough of a mind to ditch out at the first sign of those fancy, clean pressed suits survived the change. 

Roadhog was one of these. In his experience, anything not covered in grime and missing most of it's brain cells is too capable of being underestimated, and therefore, not to be taken at face value.  He'd cleared out of there so fast his bike managed to burn rubber on dirt and from then on Hog went to great lengths to avoid the white coat's and their metal death houses. 

So why was it that he often found himself forced amongst these pretentious asswipes? Could it be possible that he was growing sloppy? Were they tracking him somehow? Why did they use him instead of taking him out like the others? They'd had more than enough opportunities.

Thinking back over the years, Hog tried to find something behind the corporation's actions that would explain the reasons for any of the messed up shit they'd done; a pattern, a tell, anything that would give the answers away.

The most he could come up with was money, sadism, money, and sadism.

"Alpha, pricks." Roadhog grumbled to himself.

Just then, the door to his little room opened and yet another goon in the endless line of white coats entered. A Female this time. She came in with her slender, prim figure, golden head held loftily, and a thick yellow folder tucked beneath her arm.

Hog let out deep breath, setting his musings aside for the time being and watched as the lady took the only other seat opposite of him.

She didn't waste a second, slapping the folder onto the table and sliding it toward Hog, "Your assignment, junker. I assume you can read?"

Her voice was annoyingly airy and full of her own importance. Hog added her to the list.

Without waiting for his response she continued, "All the information you'll need to carry out your assignment is within  these files. You'll have a half hour to go over them and then you'll be shown to your room. You've done adequate work for us in the past so understand that this is a promotion of sorts; a sign of our gratitude."

Here she paused, making a show of looking him up and down and finding him distasteful, "But understand this, junker. Unlike your last overseer I won't make a single allowance for any mistakes you are bound to make. I expect results and I expect them to be the results I want. If for any reason you fall out of line, or exhibit behavior contrary to our benifit, then your services will no longer be required."

She smiled then, a fake pearly white thing, "Do you understand?"

Unperturbed, Hog met her gaze through his mask, "That's not my name."

She blinked, "Excuse me?"

"Junker." He shrugged, looking down to consider the yellow file she'd chucked at him, "That's not my name."

She frowned, "It's what you a-"

"Is that it?" Hog interupted, flicking open the file with two fingers.

"What?"

"Is that the end of your pissy alpha bitch prattle?" Hog stated more than asked as he studied a faded image of some scraggly blonde boy presented to him on the first page.

"Excuse me?!" By the scathing way she ground the words out from between those perfect teeth, Hog was quite positive her dislike for him was very great.

"Good." Roadhog stood, not bothering to push his chair out and thereby knocking the table back a couple feet with his sizeable front.

"Wait!" Bitch lady screeched, scrambling to keep the table from crushing her in her seat. "So you'll do it?"

"I don't need a room and I don't want your lame file." Hog passed right on by the female white coat, gripped the doorknob in one meaty hand, and promptly ripped the whole door off its multi-locked hinges. "Just show me the body and tell me where you want it dumped."

"That's just it though," the bitch huffed, "there is no body. This one's still alive."

**Author's Note:**

> I think I like it... Yeah, I like it! 
> 
> What do you think?


End file.
